


Drawn to the Darkness, Drawn to the Light

by JulyGoLightly



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Seduction, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulyGoLightly/pseuds/JulyGoLightly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampire AU. Late 19th century. After Belle's father hadn't returned from a trip to Scotland, she one day receives a letter from a Scottish Count named Gold, who asks her to come to his castle as her father has fallen ill and requests her presence. She and her fiancé immediately make their way to Scotland, not knowing who is already yearning for meeting her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Maurice French, one of America’s most promising inventors of the 19th century, was staring out of the carriage, watching how dark and gloomy forests and several foggy fenlands passed by his window.

Right from the beginning, he had had this strange feeling about this trip to Scotland. He had received a mysterious letter only two weeks ago, an invitation from a Scottish count, who had asked him to travel to his castle and to tell him about his latest inventions. There had been a ticket attached for a ship that would leave New York’s port only two days after, and the mysterious man had asked him to take it and to visit him immediately.

Maurice was no fool, and he would certainly not follow such a strange invitation blindly. He had done some research after he had received the letter written on rich parchment, had asked some of his closest friends back in New York. And some of them indeed had heard about this mysterious man – a count even. Count Gold seemed to have done similar deals with some of Maurice’s acquaintances over the past years, but neither of them had been too eager to talk about it. Rumor had it that Gold was a cruel and vile man, but powerful and rich to the same extent. And Maurice had to admit that he had been rather conflicted about Gold’s invitation. But in the end, the need for money won the internal struggle whether to accept it or not. The inventor knew that he had lots of potential – but to realize his ideas, he needed money. He was always on quest of finding investors who would be willing to support his work, but unfortunately, the upper class of New York City seemed to be rather frightened of anything that was new. They preferred to keep the status quo – an absolute foolish thing in a modern world like this – at least in Maurice’s opinion. But without investments, no money… and with no money, no inventions.But Count Gold seemed to be different, and pretty interested in Maurice’s ideas.

So the old inventor had finally accepted the invitation, and now he was sitting in a carriage that would lead him to the count’s castle – but the uneasiness in his heart grew with every mile they would cover until they reached their destination. When he had left the ship, a carriage had already been waiting for him, ready to bring him to Gold’s castle. A slight shiver had run down Maurice’s spine as he had met the driver – a man with startling but crazy blue eyes who had bowed lowly and had introduced himself as Jefferson – one of the Count’s servants. The strange man hadn’t said much, had just stared at him for a lasting moment and had finally nodded.

“This will do.” he had muttered to himself before he had taken Maurice’s luggage to store it away.

Maurice had just been about to turn around, the old man never been a brave man and the stranger had done nothing to ease the fright that had been lingering in Maurice’s heart. But he had to take the chance. He was a genius, a visionary. But mere ideas in his head wouldn’t be able to pay the bills – and he had not only himself to care for, but his beautiful daughter Belle as well.

Belle was his one and only, his shining star. She didn’t know about the debts he had piled over the past years of ill success, the loving father not wanting the beauty’s heart to suffer or concern for even the slightest of seconds. This visit to Scotland would end their unuttered problems… It would grant and maintain the life his darling Belle so deserved. So Maurice had decided to overcome his fears the rumors about Gold had evoked in his heart

For his Belle and her future.

After all, the worst thing that could happen was that this strange but powerful Count Gold would send him away.

Wasn’t it?


	2. Mine

**_ Chapter 1 _ **

**__ **

“I don’t like this, Belle.” Gaston said for the hundredth of time since their journey to Scotland had started. “Not one bit.”

Belle let out a long sigh and lowered the book she was reading.

“I know Gaston.” she replied, probably for the hundredth time as well. “But I have to know what’s wrong with my father.”

Gaston let out a strange sound and shifted his gaze to look out of the carriage’s window.

“Gaston…” Belle said with a soft voice and reached out to touch his hand. When their skin touched, he turned to look at her, and the harshness in his eyes softened a little.

“I’m really worried about him.” she said, looking him straight into his brown eyes. “Since he had left me to go to Scotland two months ago, I haven’t heard from him. Except for this letter Count Gold sent me.”

The tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes did the trick and Gaston finally let out a defeated sigh, covering her small hand with his.

“I know.” he finally agreed and traced her knuckles with his thumb. “But I have a strange feeling about this whole thing. I tried to keep your father from going to Scotland. You know what they say about this Count.”

In response, Belle rolled her eyes and shook her head determinedly.

“Don’t tell me you believe these ridiculous rumors Gaston…” she sighed and freed her hand from his, a hint of accusation resonating in her voice. “They’re just horror stories people tell each other because of their boring lives.”

Gaston made a disapproving tsk-sound.

“In every rumor there is a little bit of truth, Belle.” he retorted sulkily, obviously feeling the urge to defend himself.

Belle’s lips curled up into a small smile.

“Are you frightened Gaston?” she almost giggled and earned a dark look from her fiancé.

“Of course I’m not.” he denied immediately. “But this Count Gold seems to be a rather strange fellow. Old as times, ruthless, powerful, residing in a dark castle in the middle of nowhere somewhere in Scotland… and your father didn’t return from a business meeting with him. Sounds pretty strange to me.”

“Gaston, don’t be ridiculous.” Belle sighed. “His letter sounded very nice.”

This time is was her fiancé’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Because you are naïve, Belle. Your thirst for adventure makes you blind to the dangers that may lurk on the way.”

Belle just shook her head in silent response, but didn’t answer. It had been a long journey to Scotland, and they had had this conversation over and over again. There was no point in arguing with Gaston about that particular matter. He was rather protective when it came to her well-being – and her yearning for adventure had always been quite a thorn in his side. Gaston was a good man, he really was – even though their engagement had been rather out of one-sided affection than real love. But his views on a woman’s place in this world was unfortunately limited to what society expected her to be: a beauty a man was able to pride himself with, a good and obedient wife, and of course a good mother of at least six children. A woman’s quest for adventure had no place in this worldview. But Belle had accepted her life. It was a good life, and she didn’t want to sound ungrateful and complain about her current situation.

She pulled the letter out of the pocket of her blue gown – the letter that had sent her on her first real adventure.

 

_**Miss French,** _

_**I’m afraid to inform you that your dear father, Mr. Maurice French, has become seriously ill during his stay at my castle in Scotland, and he requests your presence as soon as possible. Please use the attached ticket to Scotland and come to fulfill your father’s wish. Please rest assured that I will do everything in my power to soothe his suffering. Someone will come to pick you up at the port. I’m looking forward to meeting Maurice’s enchanting daughter.** _

_**Yours sincerely,** _

_**Count R. A. Gold** _

 

It had been a rather short letter, leaving more questions than answering. The letter had been written on rich parchment, each word elegantly drawn with ink of a dark red color. For the beat of a second, the ink had almost been reminiscent of blood. But the young woman had discarded the idea as quickly as it had appeared. She had heard way too much rumors about Count Gold, but she was determined not to believe even one single word. Therefore, the young woman hadn’t had to think of her decision for even one second. Since her father had left her to meet this strange new benefactor in Scotland, she had been worried sick. And her bad feelings had been justified as it seemed. Her father was seriously ill, befallen by a sickness Count Gold hadn’t quite clarified. But the only thing that mattered was that her father needed her – and since she had been a small girl, she had done everything to grant him every wish. Traveling to Scotland was therefore simply a matter of course. Gaston had been furious about her intent to accept the invitation. He had heard stories about this strange Scottish Count, and he didn’t want Belle anywhere near this man – this _monster_ as he had called him during one of their fights. But Belle had always been just as stubborn as beautiful. In the end, Gaston had reluctantly agreed to her plans to travel overseas, but only on condition that he would accompany his fiancée along the trip. If she was completely honest to herself, she was rather glad that her fiancé had decided to come with her. Scotland was a foreign place after all, and she really didn’t know this mysterious Count Gold. And Gaston was tall and muscular, therefore easily able to protect her from every danger that might occur.

Suddenly, the carriage came to an abrupt halt, and Belle had to hold onto Gaston’s arm not to fall over. When Belle looked out of the window, her mouth fell open.

They had arrived.

The carriage door sprang open with a creaking sound, and Gaston helped her to step unharmed out of the black coach. Belle’s eyes went wide when she took in the sight before her.

An immense stony wall jutted out of the leafy landscape, imposing in its size. Battlement upon battlement arose before them, dark and gloomy windows staring down at them like dead eyes. Thick fog was surrounding them, and even though it was barely past noon, the sun was not able to break through its moist and blurry clouds of grey. Out of instinct, the young woman tightened the collar of her coat around her small form, and a wave of relief washed through her body as her fiancé encircled her waist with one of his strong arms, pulling her closer against his own body.

“Miss French!” a high-pitched voice sounded through the fog, making Belle’s attention turn towards the heavy, black doors that marked the entrance towards the imposing castle.

A tall, lean man appeared out of the fog. He was rather handsome, Belle noticed, but there was something about him that made her nestle closer against Gaston.

The stranger’s broad smile across his face faltered a little when his blue eyes fell onto the tall man who was standing next to her.

“Who are you if you don’t mind my asking?” the stranger addressed Gaston with narrowed eyes.

Belle felt how Gaston straightened his spine, trying to make himself taller than he already was. There was a long beat of tensed silence between them until Belle finally chose to step in.

“This is Gaston Chevallier.” she said with a polite smile on her lips as she wiggled herself out of Gaston’s tight grasp. “My fiancé.”

“Fiancé?” the stranger asked with raised brows. Belle noticed how a hint of concern washed over the man’s face, and his eyes flickered briefly towards one of the dark windows of the castle. Belle followed his gaze, but couldn’t detect anything that could have caused such a behavior.

“I thought it rather inappropriate and careless to let my fiancée make such a long journey all alone.” Gaston finally clarified rather sharply.

The stranger’s mouth turned into a crooked grin.

“Very careless indeed.” he nodded, his sparkling blue eyes firmly fixed on Gaston for the longest beat of a moment.

“Count Gold, I suppose?” Belle asked carefully, and with one swift, graceful movement, the stranger turned his attention completely back at her.

“Afraid not, mylady.” he replied and then bowed lowly before her. “Jefferson Capello is the name. The master’s obedient and humble servant.”

“Belle French.” The young woman replied and bobbed an elegant curtsey. “But just call me Belle.”

The stranger flashed a toothy, shiny smile at her and took her hand to place a brief kiss on it.

“A pleasure to finally meet you in person, Miss Belle.” he assured her.

He suddenly turned his attention to her hand he was still holding in his. He gently turned it and moved one cold finger over her wrists.

“What lovely hands you have, Miss Belle.” he pointed out in a strange voice, his finger still gliding back and forth over the place where he could feel her racing pulse. “So soft and pale… and so cold even though I can feel the hot blood racing through your veins.”

“Of course her hands are cold.” Gaston interrupted this strange moment and moved closer towards his fiancée. “It’s rather cold outside. So if you don’t mind…”

Jefferson let go off Belle’s hand and eyed the young man in front of him with a strange smile on his face.

“Of course. Please forgive me my moment of inattention.” he said politely. “I’m so used to the cold that I sometimes forget that…” he paused for a moment, letting out a rather cheerless laugh. “… _other_ people still seem to mind.”

“Indeed we do.” Gaston agreed determinedly, his voice just as cold as the topic they were just talking about.

“Belle, dear…” he continued and moved his head to look at his soon-to-be wife. “Why don’t you go inside and let me take care of our luggage?”

Belle offered him a grateful smile, the freezing cold and the icy atmosphere slowly making her feel rather uncomfortable.

“Oh there’s no need.” Jefferson chimed in and pointed at the carriage driver. “Mr. Dove here will carry your luggage to your rooms.”

He then turned his head and gave Belle another broad smile.

“Miss Belle, would you be so kind and follow me into the castle?”

And without another word, he turned around, making his way through the dark doors. Belle noticed how Gaston shot her a concerned look, but a sudden, strange feeling started to spread through her body, making her almost oblivious to his concerns. As if she was drawn by an invisible force, she finally made her way towards the heavy doors, ready to enter Count Gold’s castle.

.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

.

Belle was standing in midst a great hall, her lips slightly apart as she admired the castle’s interior. She had stepped through the large double door that was of a dark red color, not black as she had first assumed. The sounds of her steps echoed against the stony castle walls, shattering the omnipresent silence. As she walked forward, a sweet smell of old parchment and smoke filled her nose. Belle let her eyes wander through the massive hall. There were several paintings and sculptures hanging down the cold walls, most of them picturing men and women with cold, dark eyes and cruel smiles toying around their lips. The breath hitched in her throat as she moved to look at one of those more closely. It was a picture of a rather slim man clothed in an expensive looking suit. His eyes were of a deep dark brown color with flecks of gold within them. The man didn’t seem very tall or overly muscular, but radiated a certain aura of power and strength she was sure Gaston wouldn’t be able to match up.

“Ah so you’ve already found the master, Miss Belle.” Jefferson chirped cheerfully. “Interesting, very interesting indeed.”

Belle jumped due to Jefferson’s closeness. She had seemed to be so enthralled by the man’s portrait that she hadn’t even heard him coming.

She put her hand above her fluttering heart and tried desperately to control her breathing.

“Oh I’m sorry.” Jefferson apologized at once. “Did I startle you?”

Belle inhaled deeply, but tried to force her face to give the man a reassuring smile.

“No worries.” she therefore said, but she still sounded somewhat out of breath. “I was just a little bit distracted.”

Her gaze moved back to the huge painting in front of them.

“So this is Count Gold?” she asked warily, trying to ignore the strange feeling that was starting to cloud her mind and heart.

Jefferson nodded.

“My master for evermore.” he confirmed lowly, and Belle noticed the strange tingle of both admiration and fright that was resonating in his voice.

“We should go and see your father, Belle.” Gaston’s voice startled her from her temporal paralyzation, finally enabling her to put her mind back to work again.

“Of course.” she agreed and flashed an apologetic smile at her fiancé.

“Can we see him?” Belle addressed Jefferson, a hopeful gleam appearing in her eyes.

Jefferson cocked his head, eying her for the longest of moments.

“He’s sleeping at the moment.” he finally said with a crooked smile on his face. “The master confined him to bed and he doesn’t want anyone to disturb him just yet.”

The smile across Belle’s face faltered a little, and her hope-filled gaze was replaced by utter disappointment.

“Perfect.” she heard Gaston groan sarcastically and Belle shot him a disapproving look over her shoulder. They were guests in this castle, and Count Gold seemed to be really concerned about her father’s health.

“So he’s still not feeling better?” she asked, trying to cover Gaston’s inappropriate comment.

Jefferson wiggled his head from one side to the other as if he was not sure how to respond.

“I suggest those are question the master is far more able to answer at tonight’s dinner, Miss Belle.”

“Tonight’s dinner?” she asked with a puzzled expression on her face. “Are we not going to meet the Count earlier?”

“I’m afraid not, Milady.” The young man replied and offered her a sympathetic smile. “But rest assured that your father is in competent hands.”

Belle gave him a reluctant nod, but couldn’t dispel the strange feeling of uneasiness that was clinging round her heart.

“Miss Belle…” he then turned his head slightly, looking at her fiancé. “Mr. Chevallier. I’m quite certain that you had a rather exhausting journey. I will show you to your rooms now, so that you can lay down and have some rest before you meet Count Gold.”

Belle offered him a grateful smile. She was indeed feeling rather exhausted from the long journey and her limbs were practically screaming to get some sleep.

“That would be lovely, Mr. Capello.” she said and took his offered, cold hand. “We should be well rested when we meet the Count. I can’t wait to finally meet him.”

The corners of Jefferson’s mouth twitched slightly upwards and he nodded his agreement.

“Oh believe me Miss Belle… the master has quite eagerly awaited your arrival as well.”

.

.

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* * *

 

.

.

.

The door to his chambers opened slowly with a creaking sound.

“She has arrived, Master.” Jefferson informed the castle’s owner as he stepped into the dark room.

“I know.” came a smooth voice from the darkness of the room. “But she’s not alone as requested.”

Jefferson pressed his lips into a thin line before answering, listening to the sound of tapping fingernails against a wooden surface.

“Her fiancé came to travel with her.” he finally said. “He was concerned about her safety.”

The man in the dark let out a sinister, short laugh.

“Was he, now.” he said, his thin lips curled up into a half-amused smirk. “Clever boy, isn’t he.”

Jefferson let out a low chuckle, shaking his head vehemently,

“Well I do doubt that, master. I had some time to talk to him and he clearly doesn’t seem to be the brightest candle on the cake. I have no idea why a lovely young lady such as her would choose such a…”

“Besides the point, Jefferson!” the other man interrupted sharply, making Jefferson’s mouth shut in an instant.

“Of course.” he mumbled. “Forgive me master.”

“Well well…” the man in the middle of the dark room finally mused after a long beat of silence. “He shouldn’t be a problem after all.”

He traced one of his long, pale fingers along a black-and-white-photo that was lying in front of him. The picture showed a young woman with dark hair, big, sparkling eyes and a broad shiny smile carved into her beautiful features.

Count Gold’s lips curled up as he traced her features for the thousandths time.

“She will be mine.” he breathed as a shimmer of satisfaction illuminated his dark eyes.


	3. Helen of Troy

**_ Chapter 2 _ **

**__ **

An overwhelming, mind-clouding and threatening darkness greeted her through the large windows of her spacious room when she looked out, trying to detect the glistering stars in the night sky. But no matter how much she tried, the infinite darkness that was only at some places punctuated with thick clouds of shiny white fog patches didn’t allow her a glance at the beauty of the night’s firmament. The castle was quiet, a distant howl of a lonely wolf the only sound that would reach her ear. A slight shiver ran down her spine, and out of instinct, she tightened her arms around her small form, still looking outside. Jefferson had led her to her chambers earlier, a spacious well-decorated room with walls of a dark red color and containing everything a woman could ever wish for. It was elegant, luxurious, and even the dark, wooden closet had already been filled with the dresses she had travelled with to Scotland. But what gained her attention at once was the golden, large full-length wall mirror in her room – truly a woman’s dream. It was mesmerizing not only by size, but by beauty as well, the frame richly ornamented with glistering and sparkling rhinestones that were dancing cheerfully to the candles’ illuminated flames. But then again, more than once had Belle thought to see a shadow flashing over the smooth, crystalline surface, having Belle made jump more than once.

Belle let out a long, exhausted sigh and buried her beautiful face into her hands. She was being just as ridiculous as Gaston – and very like only imagining things. But why did this cloud of doubt continue to envelop her rapidly beating heart then?

A sudden double knock on the door made her wince and interrupted her current state of uneasiness.

“Miss Belle?” she heard Jefferson’s cheerful voice break through her cloudy mind.

It took a moment or two before she answered.

“Please come in, Jefferson.” she answered with a slightly hoarse voice, probably due to the lack of use since she had awoken earlier.

She straightened the practically nonexistent wrinkles in her skirt, ready to receive the guest to her room properly.

The heavy oaken door opened, accompanied by a creaking sound that made her hair stay on end, but she did her best not to show when Jefferson finally appeared.

“A lovely evening, isn’t it Miss Belle?” he greeted her with a broad grin on his face as he bowed his head slightly. “I hope you rested well?”

Belle returned his smile and nodded.

“It was quite refreshing, thank you Jefferson.” she replied, but the shiver in her voice must have given her away.

The young servant cocked his head and eyed the beauty in front of him for a mesmerizing moment.

“Is something troubling you, mylady?” he finally asked, a wrinkle of concern forming on his pale forehead.

“Oh no.” Belle answered immediately, not wanting to share her foolish womanly fears with him.

But Jefferson just stared at her, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers as if he was able to look straight into her soul.

“I’m not too fond of the darkness, I guess.” she then admitted with a sheepish smile on her face, not knowing why she had suddenly voiced her fears aloud.

The corners of Jefferson’s lips twitched slightly upwards, making Belle feel like a stupid little girl in an instant.

“Excuse me.” she therefore added hastily, a small blush of a light pink color illuminating her pale cheeks, and she swirled her hand through the air as if she wanted to dispel her previous confession. “I must sound like a puerile and silly goose to you.”

“Oh don’t worry, Miss Belle.” Jefferson reassured and offered the young lady in front of him a sympathetic smile. “It lies in human nature to be afraid of the darkness – the human body not prepared and too fragile to enjoy and understand the beauty of this endless moment.”

Belle stared at him for some moments of silence, studying the young man’s face closely.

“You speak as if you are not like most humans?” she said gently with a small smile on her lips and moved her body to the middle of the spacious room – further away from the dark window, closer to the burning candle standing on der nightstand.

The young servant let out an amused, low chuckle and shook his head slightly.

“Well, I guess I’m indeed not, Miss Belle.” he admitted with a strange twinkle in his eyes, Belle was not quite able to place and an almost mischievous expression she could not quite understand.

Belle didn’t reply, waiting for him to clarify his statement, but the explanation never came. Instead, the mischievous glimmer on his face vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and was replaced by a rather serious one.

“But the actual reason why I have come to see you is something entirely different, Maylady.” he told her with another slight bow of his body. “My master instructed me to inform you that dinner will be served in a couple of minutes and he would be delighted to call you his guest this evening.”

Belle offered him a genuine smile, hoping that the excitement to meet this mysterious Count Gold wouldn’t be too apparent on her face.

“It would be my pleasure to have dinner with Count Gold.” the young woman therefore replied politely, trying to keep the excited tone in her voice at bay.

If even possible, the grin across Jefferson’s face broadened even more and he clapped his pale hands elegantly in front of his body.

“Excellent.” he chirped and opened the door of her chambers. “Then please give me the pleasure to escort you to the Great Dining Room, Miss Belle. The castle can be a rather…” he let out an amused laugh that made her heart beat faster against her rib-cage. “… _dangerous_ place to roam.”

“I guess that’s because one might easily become lost in the darkness of the large corridors?” Belle asked with furrowed brows, not able to guess what else Jefferson could be referring to.

A toothy grin appeared on Jefferson’s face, revealing several pearly white teeth.

“Of course.” was is simple but at the same time rather unsatisfying reply.

Before Belle could ask anything else, he elegantly stretched out one arm, pointing at the darkness of the corridor that was lying beyond Belle’s chambers.

“Shall we?” he asked with a smooth voice, but Belle noticed the slight hint of impatience that was lingering in his bright blue eyes.

Belle hesitated for a moment and bit her lower lip – a nervous habit she had acquired when she had been a young girl long ago.

“And Gaston…” she asked with a slight tremor in her voice. “Will he…?”

But before she was able to voice another word, she was immediately interrupted by Jefferson’s strangely sharp reply.

“Your charming fiancé is already waiting for you to arrive, Mylady.” he said. “The master requested to meet both of you tonight.”

The slight feeling of relief washed through her veins as she heard that her fiancé would attend the dinner as well. Since Jefferson had showed them to their rooms, she hadn’t seen Gaston. And despite her thirst for adventure and her desperate fight for being master of her own mind and decisions, his presence and declared intention to protect her made her feel safe and secure, and was able to turn the fluttering hummingbird in her chest back into a normal beating heart.

She took in a deep breath before answering.

“Fine then.” the petite brunette finally declared with a sweet smile on her lips, and checked her reflection one last time in the golden full-length wall mirror. “I only hope I’ll be able to conform to etiquette.”

When she walked past Jefferson who was still holding the door open for her, he closed his eyes for the slightest of moments and took in a deep breath.

“Believe me dear.” he chuckled as he closed the door behind them, a certain gleam of darkness appearing within his eyes as he opened them again. “The master will be more than pleased.”

.

.

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* * *

 

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.

.

“Belle!” Gaston called out when his fiancée entered the spacious Dining Hall through the arched black double door that was richly ornamented with elegant, golden details on either side.

With no more than four large steps he was right next to her, and pulled her small form almost possessively against his own as if they hadn’t seen each other for years.

A small gasp escaped her lips as he even dared to place a gentle, short kiss on her lips – his behavior so uncharacteristic from what she was used to from back in New York.

“Have you slept well, Gaston?” she asked with a genuine smile on her lips as she looked up to meet his gaze.

Gaston let out a short, contemptuous laugh and loosened his grip around her body.

“Hardly.” he huffed and turned his head to look at Jefferson who was watching the scene in front of him with a silent, grim expression on his face.

“How could I when my chambers are miles away from yours?” he growled. “I was not able to get a wink of sleep because I was too worried about your well-being.”

“Well, _miles_ is a little bit exaggerated, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Chevallier?” Jefferson retorted calmly, but his eyes were showing a hint of annoyance within them. “And please rest assured that Miss Belle stays under the master’s protecting throughout her entire visit. You see… your worries are completely misplaced.”

Gaston let out another contemptuous snort and shook his head.

“My fiancée’s protection should be my task to worry about.” he hissed with narrowed eyes. “Not your master’s.”

Belle followed the exchange between the two men with wide open eyes, her pale cheeks illuminated by a slight blush of shocked embarrassment concerning Gaston’s rude behavior.

“Gaston, please.” Belle finally tried to step in and put her small hand on his upper shoulder in a soothing manner. “We are guests in this castle.”

She noticed how the man’s muscles softened under her touch, but the look he gave her when he turned his head to look at her was filled with determination and a hint of fury.

“This is about your well-being, darling.” he declared with a strong voice. “I’d feel much safer if I had one of those many rooms in the west-wing that are closer to your chambers.”

“Well I’m afraid this is neither your nor mine decision to make, Mr. Chevallier.” Jefferson explained, his elegant features still formed into a fake smile. “And as I said. The necessity of a change of chambers is not given as your fiancée is already well cared for and protected.”

Gaston rolled his eyes, barely containing the fury that was boiling in his enraged veins.

“Of course.” he spat, the sarcasm resonating heavy in his voice. “But we don’t even know this Count Gold. And who knows what dangers lurk in this dark castle – I am not willing…”

But a smooth, dark voice interrupted Gaston’s oral fluency mid-sentence.

“None that I am not able to deal with.” someone said from behind them where the large dining table was standing.

Slowly, Belle turned around, already guessing who the stranger’s voice probably belonged to.

She inhaled sharply as her eyes caught sight of the man she only knew from the portrait hanging down a stony wall in the Great Hall.

“Believe me that.” he added while a promising smirk was toying around his thin lips.

A lean man, just as she had assumed based on the graphic portrayal, clothed in a well-tailored dark suit, and with brown hair that was slightly peppered with a hint of silvery glistering strands was standing right in front of them. Unlimited power and authority was both emanating from his slender form and visible in his dark, sparkling eyes that stood in contrast to the deathly pallor covering his skin. Belle almost shuddered at the thought what a man like him could do to Gaston if he was upset by his behavior. But despite her concerns, a crooked, superior smile was carved into the man’s features, revealing several perfectly white and pearly teeth, as his dark gaze was firmly fixed on Belle’s fiancé.

“Count Gold, I suppose.” Gaston stated with a dark voice, and loosened his grasp around Belle completely to approach the older man.

“You suppose right, Mr. Chevallier.” Count Gold replied and bowed his head slightly, ignoring Gaston’s offered hand completely.

“What an…” he paused for a moment, whirling his hand gracefully through the air and offering the other man another toothy smile. “… well, _unexpected_ pleasure to have you here, Mr. Chevallier. Mr. French has filled many of his narrations with your bravery and physical strength. I’m very delighted to finally make your acquaintance.”

The Count’s words seemed to push Gaston’s buttons just right as the tall man’s stony expression faltered a little to make room for a rather prideful one.

“I felt uneasy about the thought to let my fiancée go on this journey all alone.” he explained immediately. “A woman as beautiful as her is always in need of protection.”

Count Gold stared at him for some moments of silence, the pearly smile still plastered across his pale face.

“That’s for sure.” he finally replied smoothly, and nodded his head as a sign of approval.

And without a warning, his dark gaze suddenly captured Belle, the young woman’s mind and heart freezing for the longest of moments. Slowly, he moved – no, not moved but almost floated – towards, leaving Gaston now completely unnoticed behind.

Belle stood there, completely unable to move even one finger as he smiled at her – a smile as sweet as honey – and his dark pools turned to chocolate brown with golden flecks that were dancing like golden raindrops at twilight.

“ _Oh Helen_ …” he began to address her, his voice low and mesmerizing.

“… _thy beauty is to me_

_Like those Nicean barks at yore_

_That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,_

_The weary, way-worn wanderer bore_

_to his own native shore._

Belle couldn’t as much as blink at him as he approached her, his voice almost singing in her head and each word clouding her heart and mind like a spell of golden smoke.

 

_“On desperate seas long wont to roam,_

_Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,_

_Thy Naiad airs have brought me home_

_To the glory that was Greece,_

_And the grandeur that was Rome.”_

He was now standing right in front of her, his mesmerizing eyes still firmly locked with hers, and the shiny smile never faltering as he cited one of her most favorite poems. She felt how her soft, warm hand was infolded by something soft and cold, but she found that she didn’t mind. Not as long as this man was still standing in front of her, not as long as his gaze and voice held a hold on her mind and heart.

Count Gold lifted her hand to his mouth. His thumb followed her line of knuckles gently as her hand hovered only inches before his mouth.

_“Lo, in your brilliant window-niche…”_ he continued softly, his voice caressing her skin like velvet.

_“How statue-like I see thee stand,_

_The agate lamp within thy hand,_

_Ah! Psyche, from the regions which_

_Are Holy Land!”_

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.

She felt how his lips gently brushed against her skin, his eyes never leaving hers in the process. In this very moment, the woman’s mind had gone completely blank – her focus too captured by the galvanic sensation of his touch and gaze on her skin and face, her whole body and soul seemingly only existing for this splint of a flash – seemingly ever had.

“It is truly a major honor to finally meet Maurice’s enchanting daughter in person, Miss French.” he added after some more moments of fantastic paralyzation. “And please let me take the liberty of telling you that your father’s descriptions of your mesmerizing beauty was not even in the slightest able to reach the genuine truth of reality.”

A slight blush started to form on her cheeks when Belle’s lips offered him a genuine but shy smile, desperately trying to force her mind to work again.

“Your kind words make me blush, milord.” she finally was able to admit in a breathy voice. “And although I feel flattered by the beauty of them and your choice of poem, I yet am afraid no woman alive would ever be able to live up to the everlasting beauty of Helen of Troy.”

A knowing smirk appeared on the Count’s pale face, his eyes darkening a little.

“And yet, mylady…” he said lowly. “… do I believe that the princess must have looked exactly like you.”

Belle’s lips were slightly parted, ready to think of a witty response, but her mind a golden cloud of smoke and words. She didn’t know how long she had stared at Count Gold, how long she had been standing there without knowing, without even _caring_ whereshe was and why she was there – when another, dark voice from the distance forced her to leave this state of strange mesmerization.

“Princess?” Gaston asked with a wary sound in his voice. “What kind of princess?”

Belle looked up, her head feeling light and dizzy at the same moment as she met Gaston’s confused gaze.

It was only then that Count Gold finally let go of her hand, turning towards her fiancé with a calm smile on his face.

“The gorgeous princess of Sparta who was abducted by a love-stricken Trojan prince, Mr. Chevallier.” he explained patiently, but a hint of amusement was dancing in his voice. “In Greek myths, she was considered as the most beautiful woman in the world, but induced the doom of an entire realm.”

Gaston stared at the Count for a long moment before his eyes flickered towards Belle.

The blush that was still lingering on Belle’s cheeks only increased when she met his intent gaze.

“Well in that case…” he said and moved his body so that he was standing right beside her and encircled her slim waist with one of his big hands. “… I am only too happy to call you mine, dear.”

Belle smiled at him as she looked up to meet his love-filled eyes, the lingering dizziness in her heart and mind making her readily accessible to any sort of affections. If she had glanced even one look at the Count who was watching the scene with eagle eye, she would have seen the pleasant mask on his face crumble, revealing the grimace of darkness and possessive longing underneath.

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* * *

 

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Belle was sitting in front of the vanity table in her room, brushing her wave of dark curls with long, smooth strokes. Her mind wandered back to tonight’s dinner, her heart starting to increase its beat as her thoughts touched the memory of Count Gold. Never in her life had she met a man like him – a man of intelligence and elegance she had never seen before, each of his moves seemingly carefully thought out and coordinated, each word chosen and a spoken, flowery picture. A man as mysterious as the rumors his name inherited. But there was something in his eyes – in his gaze – that didn’t seem to match this well established façade of continence and sangfroid. She had seen it when she had sometimes looked up from her plate, finding his almost greedy gaze lingering on her small form for only a flash of a second. It had made her shudder, but had also stirred something within her she was not quite able to place – not even able to categorize. Good or bad – shudders of fear or of pleasure, she didn’t know. Everything seemed to be merely a hazy primeval soup of uncategorized sensations.

Belle let out a long sigh, placing the comb down onto the wooden surface of her vanity table.

Maybe she had just imagined things.

Count Gold had behaved like a perfect gentleman throughout the entire dinner. He had asked about their journey, had talked to Gaston about his family and business back in France and New York… he had even asked Belle about her life in the States and had asked about her most favorite activities as a pastime. His eyes had taken on a strange color of darker brown when she had told him about the books and poetry she had been reading, and that she had been more than delighted that he had cited one of Edgar Allan Poe’s most famous poems. A knowing smirk had appeared on his face, and Belle had briefly wondered if her father had already told him about her love for the written word.

Her father.

A heavy cloud of sadness started to conquer her heart when she thought of her beloved papa who was so close and yet so far away. Count Gold hadn’t said much about her father this evening, had merely told her that he was at the verge between life and death. Belle had let out a gasp in shocked disbelief, fearing that her arrival had been too late, and Gaston had immediately patted her hand in a soothing manner. Count Gold had tapped his fingers onto the wooden surface of the dining table, and for the longest of moments, the echo of that tapping sound had been the only noise that would break through the overwhelming silence between them. But when had raised his voice again, it had sounded serene and sober, maybe even optimistic at some points. He had told Belle that he would make sure to check in on her father overnight, and that she would be able to see him tomorrow. Apparently, Count Gold had often dealt with this kind of illness, and she should be rest assured that he would do anything in his power to care for Maurice as good as even possible. His words had gone straight to her heart, illuminating a small fire of hope there.

Suddenly, an icy gust of wind made the window to her chamber fly open with a noisy, howling sound. Belle immediately jumped up from her chair, whirling around to see the open window. With every fresh blow of cold air, the frame crashed noisily against the stony wall of the castle’s bailey. Belle tightened the silken fabric of her long, cream colored nightdress around her slim frame and moved towards the open window to close it again. She leant out of the small opening, stretching her petite body to reach the window’s frame. As soon as her fingers touched the cold metal of the window’s catch, a pair of bright golden eyes suddenly appeared in the thickness of the night, staring straight back at her from one of the battlements’ peaks. Belle let out a shocked, faltering sound as the scream that was lingering in her throat wouldn’t come to life. With a determined, quick pull, she closed the window with a noisy thud-sound, locked it immediately and drew the heavy crimson velvet curtains to shield her sight from the darkness outside. Her heart was beating dreadfully vehemently against her rib-cage as her gaze was firmly fixed on the place where the curtains hid the castle’s window.

Belle stood there for some moments longer, but nothing happened. After some more minutes of pleasant non-happenings, her heart beat started to regularize, and the shock that had taken control over her mind and limbs slowly started to subside.

She shook her head, chiding her own silly behavior.

Since she had come to Scotland, her nerves seemed to be stretched to breaking point. And she was obviously already in the state of hallucinations – that should trouble her more than imaginary golden eyes that seemed to spy on her.

She let out a small laugh – partly to convince herself of the mere insanity of her thoughts, and partly to ease the feeling of uneasiness that was still clouding her mind.

She let out another sigh and sat down on the comfortable, spacious bed.

Sleep would do her good, the beauty thought as she lowered herself onto the soft sheets of velvet and feathers.

All problems and fears would vanish as soon as she would pass through the dream-bringing gates of Morpheus, when she would let herself fall deeper and deeper into a world of darkness and imagination.

And with those thoughts in mind, the young beauty blew out the last candle on her nightstand, committing her body and soul to the darkness of the night.


	4. Something Stronger than Love

**_ Chapter 3 _ **

**__ **

A feeling like that was not new to someone like him.

A burning obsession to possess, the almost destroying thirst for anything a vivid creature was able to offer. He was used to it – had actually been used to it for more than several lifetimes and longer. It mirrored what he was and what he would always be: a lifeless creature of darkness that yearned for seducing the light of life to his dark realm. To cloak lightness in a heavy cloud of black velvet.

He moved closer towards the soft bed where she was lying. He had parted the curtains, the spacious room now filled with soft streams of silvery moonlight. He had not done it because he wouldn’t have been able to see through the darkness within her chambers – the mere thought evoking an amused half-smirk on his cold face.

He had done it because of the way the rays of glistering light were dancing on her pale flesh, illuminating the softness of her skin as if it was covered by thousands of diamonds.

Yes, it was a feeling he knew only too well. It was the emotion, the drive a creature like him was existing for. It was the only thing that could create and awake the illusion of life in an unmoving heart like his.

His dark eyes were full of it when he looked down at the dark-haired beauty before him. She had her eyes closed, her head slightly turned towards him, and her creamy breasts were heaving sinfully with every deep, peaceful breath she took.

He lifted one of his pale hands and reached out to follow the low neckline of her night-dress with one finger. A dark smile appeared on his face when the iciness of his skin made her take in an unknowing, sharp breath. But she wouldn’t wake up – her heart and mind too deep within the lands of dreams and imagination.

Too unaware, too innocent to know what dangers were awaiting outside her pleasant sleep – the mere thought of it making his darkest urges scream loudly in his head. What he could do to her… within flashes of moments… without her even noticing. The possibilities were endless, reaching from killing to simply taking all of her body until his primal thirst was satisfied.

But instead, he just stood there – motionless, statue-like.

The perfect predator, watching his unaware, beautiful prey.

And by all the heavens – what a beautiful human she truly was – an exceptional beauty with waves of dark curls, blue eyes like the light summer sky, and red pouty lips that were the unspoken promises to so many of his sinful thoughts.

The moment his dark gaze had caught sight of the beauty on Maurice’s black-and-white-photo, the undeniable feeling of desire had shrouded his lifeless heart – and the urge to possess had formed in his dark mind.

But this first, almost timid flame of dark need had been nothing compared to the thirst he had felt when the woman had been standing in front of him in person.

Ah… what an exceptional goddess, her Aphroditian curves clothed in a long, blue gown that had mirrored the color of her sparkling eyes, and the tempting aura of innocence had been surrounding her delicious frame.

Her flesh had been covered by an aristocratic pallor, but her cheeks had been illuminated by a maiden blush – a sign for the sweet, heated blood that was dancing through her veins.

He had heard her heart beat when he had approached her, the vivid organ fluttering like a caged bird against her rib-cage.

His slender fingers slowly moved upwards, tracing the pulse point at her throat.

Oh, how he had forced himself to muster all of his strength and self-discipline to hold his composure, to prevent him from taking her right then and there, devouring her body and soul completely.

The desire that had heated his cold blood had increased with every blush of hers, with each of her ringing laughs. But he had forced himself to keep the mask of unaffectedness and mere friendliness plastered across his face, not wanting to scare the young beauty during their first encounter.

She would be his in the end – no matter what path he would take. After all, it was almost impossible for a beauty of light such as her to resist his call of darkness.

Many women had followed his urges, had given themselves willingly to him – their human bodies and weak souls unable to fight the tempting darkness – their blood his delicious trophy of victory.

He bent down, his pale mask hovering only inches before the beauty’s sleeping face, eying the object of his many thoughts more closely.

Something was different this time.

He desired her – but that was not what startled him. After all, every creature – dead or alive – would have suffered the same feeling. Her scent, her curves, her innocence – even the smallest part of her simply an appealing invitation of seduction.

And yet, it was not mere desire he felt for her, even though he desired her more than any other woman before – the creature of darkness barely able to resist the urge to plunge his sharp, white teeth into the softness of her pale flesh.

Many times before, he had done just that. Hundreds of years had made him tired of the play of seduction, the monster within him taking what he wanted without asking, without even trying to convince his victims to offer their body and blood to him willingly.

But this woman lying only inches beneath him was different. The appeal of seduction was back in his mind, the mere thought of taking appearing undeserving and particularly unworthy when dealing with a beauty such as her.

She intrigued him, something he hadn’t felt in centuries.

The urge to possess had grabbed hold of his dark heart, and the creature of darkness was more determined than ever to break through the beauty’s well-kept façade of innocence.

“Belle, my sleeping beauty…” he whispered a message into her ear, his cold lips caressing her skin gently. “You will be mine… And there will be nothing for you or your fiancé to do about it.”

Belle’s body stirred a little, her brow furrowed as she let out a strange noise in her sleep.

The corners of the dark creature’s lips curled up, a promising smile appearing on his face as he tucked one of her curls gently behind her ear.

“Absolutely nothing.” he whispered lowly.

A sudden and icy draft of air made Belle suddenly wake up, her body practically jumping awake. With wide open eyes and a fluttering heart she looked around, but infinite darkness was all her wary eyes were able to see.

She illuminated the candle that was standing on the nightstand next to the bed and let her eyes roam over the partway illuminated room. A sigh of relief escaped her pouty lips when she noted that nothing had changed and that no monsters were lurking for her in her chambers.

That was until she lowered her head back into the welcoming warmth of her comfortable bed, and rolled her body to the other side, looking at the other side of her double bed.

Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes fell onto the flower next to her – a beautiful rose with petals of a dark red color was lying next to her, gently placed onto the white, satin-glossed material of the pillow.

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* * *

 

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It was almost 4 pm the next day, and Belle was sitting in one of the spacious living rooms of the castle. It was already dark outside … or, at least she thought it to be. It was hard to tell, really, as the castle was obviously placed in a region of Scotland where the sun wasn’t able to break through the thick curtains of fog too easily, and the surrounding, big trees weren’t helping either. But Belle didn’t mind. Not as long as she was holding her most favorite book in hands, and not as long as a crackling fire was giving her the warmth she needed.

Gaston had taken the carriage to visit the closest town, the man apparently wanting to inform his business-partners back in New York that he would stay a little bit longer than first expected. Belle knew that her fiancé didn’t trust this Count Gold – even though he had admitted that he didn’t seem as monstrous as he had anticipated. And yet, there was something that was apparently making Gaston feel wary about that man. And if Belle was true to herself, she to some extent shared his opinion. It was not that she was afraid of that man. After all, Count Gold had been the perfect gentleman from the very first moment that they had arrived at his castle.

But there was something about him, a mysterious aura that was surrounding him. And Belle was scared about the feeling this aura had made her feel. She had first felt it when their eyes had met for the first time, the day before during dinner when Count Gold had introduced himself. It had been as if his sparkling brown eyes and his smooth low voice had been calling for her, entrapping her body and soul in a paralyzing moment in which neither time nor space had really mattered. Never had she experienced something like that, and she was still not sure if she desired to feel it again.

Belle was used to being in control of everything. That’s what she had been taught from the cradle as composure and collectedness were esteemed as being the key traits of a young lady like her. And with Gold… well, the moment she had stared into those burning, brown eyes, her composure had completely vanished. In that very moment, nothing had truly mattered. Not composure, not standards, not appropriacy… not even time. All that had mattered had been the strange feeling of both delicious excitement and haunting fear that had filled her body and soul.

“Interesting book, dearie?” she heard a dark voice announce from behind her.

Startled to the core, Belle let the heavy book in her hand fall to the floor and bounced up from the velvet red armchair she had been sitting in.

Count Gold was standing right behind the chair, and an amused smirk was toying around his lips.

“Count Gold…” Belle gasped as she covered her rapidly beating heart with one hand, unable to continue her sentence.

The Count stared at her for some moments of strange silence, and Belle was certain that he could hear the blood rush through her veins.

“I’m sorry if I’ve startled you Miss Belle.” he finally said and moved slowly closer. “That had never been my intention. Please forgive me.”

Belle offered him an uncertain smile and shook her head.

“You don’t need to apologize, milord.” she was quick to assure. “I guess I had only been too focused on my book. It’s not your fault that I didn’t hear you coming.”

Count Gold nodded his understanding. With one swift and graceful movement, he picked up the heavy book from the ground and traced the leather binding almost gently with both hands.

“Ah…” he announced as his dark gaze feel onto the golden title that were imprinted on the cover. “ _’Songs of Homer’_ ” he read and after a long beat of silence, he lifted his gaze and stared at the young woman in front of him. “Quite an interesting read, Miss Belle.”

“But quite an enjoyable as well, milord.” Belle retorted with a shy smile on her lips.

Count Gold agreed with a short nod of his head and a toothy smile on his pale face.

“Indeed it is.” he replied and opened the book to flip through it. “So do I assume correctly that you are rather fond of Greek Mythology, mylady?”

“That I am, milord.” Belle replied politely, her eyes now gently caressing the heavy books in her host’s hands. “But only lately am I allowed to actually explore it further, I’m afraid.”

The last part of her statement caught Count Gold’s attention and he lifted his head to look at her, a hint of confusion darting over his face.

“And why is that, if you don’t mind my asking?” he inquired politely.

Belle watched as one of his slender fingers trailed the uneven book’s spine, and for the briefest of seconds, the thought occurred to her how it would probably feel to have him trace the curves of her body with the exact same finger.

A slight blush occurred on her porcelain skin as she caught herself thinking such an inappropriate thought. She immediately tore her eyes away from Count Gold’s hand and focused on the blazing open fire instead.

“Those stories…” she started, still trying to suppress the shameful blush on her cheeks. “Those myths… well, they are full of adventure, full of mysteries and full of love.”

She turned her head slightly to look at the man next to her.

“They fascinate me.” she confessed with a shy smile. “And I could lose myself to each and every old legend.”

Count Gold nodded patiently, indicating her to move on.

“Gaston, however…” she sighed heavily and shrugged her shoulders. “He doesn’t want me to read them. He says they are not good for a young woman like me. That they have nothing to do with real life, but would only fill my head with silly ideas.”

A smirk appeared on Count Gold’s face as he listened to Belle’s explanation.

“Like what?” he asked gently and moved closer to where Belle was standing.

Puzzled, Belle turned her body to face him again, her brows furrowed and head cocked.

“Like what?” she repeated with a wariness in her voice that mirrored her facial expression.

Count Gold let out a low laugh as his sparkling eyes trapped her in place.

“What is your husband-to-be so afraid of, I wonder?” he elaborated gently while his eyes studied her face closely, giving her the impression that he already knew the answer to his own question.

Belle bit her lower lip in response and shook her head slightly.

“I don’t know.” she finally replied in a low voice.

Count Gold was now standing right in front of her, the book of question still firmly wrapped in his hands.

“I think you do.” he said with a mischievous smirk on his face that made Belle look up again.

He was standing so close, closer than any social etiquette would have seen appropriate. Belle tried to avert her eyes again, his intent gaze making the impression as if he could see right into her burning soul. But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to move her gaze as it stayed glued to those dark pools of chocolate brown and gold before her.

“And what would that be?” she heard her hoarse voice ask.

The grin across the Count’s face broadened, and a hint of darkness darted over his face.

“Those stories my dear Miss Belle…” he almost purred with a tremor in his voice that sent shivers through her entire body. “… are no innocent love-stories as you might want to see them.”

“They are.” she insisted, her voice barely a whisper as the closeness of his body made it almost impossible for her to focus on more than the overwhelming scent that was starting to surround her.

Count Gold slowly shook his head as his eyes seemed to trace a path from her eyes to her cleavage and back upwards.

“They are about something more powerful than love, mylady.” he finally replied lowly.

He leant in closer, his mouth almost touching her ear.

“Lust.” he whispered, the word barely audible if he hadn’t been standing so close. “Desire. Seduction.”

For the briefest of moments, Belle closed her eyes as all of her senses tried to deal with the closeness of Count Gold and the seductive tone he used to carefully stress each word in an almost promising way.

“A fair maiden who gives herself to an almighty seducer – a God who disguises as a white bull to finally ravish the woman his desire-filled heart yearns for.” he continued to whisper.

Belle let out a shuddering breath, desperate to maintain her composure.

“I see why your fiancé thinks those are no stories for an innocent mind and heart such as yours.” the voice continued, and it was the almost pitiful tone in his voice that made her finally force her mind to work again.

“I don’t.” she declared determinedly and took one step away from Count Gold.

The man stared at her, and for the slightest of seconds, Belle thought that she had seen a hint of confusion on his face.

“There might be a fair part of desire and seduction in those stories.” she admitted, a heated blush forming on her cheeks – but she found that she didn’t care. “But I refuse to believe that this should be all of it – let alone that primal desires are more powerful than true love.”

An amused smile toyed around Count Gold’s lips as she continued her passionate speech about love.

“Take the myth of the legendary Odysseus for example.” she continued, a gleam of devotion apparent on her face. “He was tempted many times it is said – and yet, his heart only desired to return to his Penelope – even after years of voyage and adventure.”

Count Gold nodded his silent agreement, and a hint of pride washed through Belle’s veins as she saw this sign of small victory.

“Or Morpheus!” she exclaimed as she added another myth to her list of true love. “He even visited the underworld to make a deal with death to free his dead love from Hades’ cold grasp.”

“But it didn’t end well, as far as I remember.” Count Gold retorted, the small smile now clearly visible on his face.

“These stories barely do – but that makes them only more beautiful.” Belle admitted with a smirk.

“I see.” Count Gold finally said after a long moment of silence and Belle couldn’t help the triumphant expression that was starting to form her features.

“Even though I find it quite questionable that you so easily pass judgement on something you haven’t experienced yet.” he finally challenged with a mischievous grin carved into his pale face.

“What do you mean, milord?” Belle asked with a puzzled expression on her face.

Count Gold let out a low laugh and placed her book onto a table nearby.

“I mean lust and desire, mylady.” he explained as he gracefully whirled around and moved both of his arms elegantly through the air. “You say love is the most powerful feeling in the world, and yet haven’t you already experienced the mind-clouding thirst of lust I suppose.”

Belle’s cheeks aflamed scarlet as she met his dark gaze.

“A thirst so overwhelming that you forget everything and anything around you.” he continued as he started to move closer yet again. “A burning desire that conquers your mind completely until it is fully satisfied.”

The smirk on his face broadened as he saw how the young woman’s cheeks turned deeper red with every word he voiced.

“Have you ever experienced something like that, I wonder?” he asked lowly, the tone of his voice both suggestive and of a genuine interest. “Have you ever given yourself fully to someone? The desire to let yourself fall to something undetected in the darkness that one would never dare to admit in daylight, your heart, mind, body and soul a burning unit driven by the force of passion and longing until your voice is hoarse from screaming and all that matters is the longing for more? Have you, mylady Belle?”

Belle swallowed hard, his words and closeness evoking something inside her body she had never felt before. But she wouldn’t be captured and defeated by words on passion and desire – at least not that easily.

“I haven’t.” Belle admitted hoarsely, but refused to avert her eyes as she stared straight back at the mysterious Count. “And yet do I believe that love conquers everything, that it is not as weak as you might imply, milord. But I do think as well that lust and desire form a very large part of love. That I don’t doubt, even though I haven’t experienced it yet.”

Count Gold stared back at her, the smirk on his face now replaced by a thoughtful and maybe even confused expression on his face.

He was just about to reply something, when a hint of anger darted over his face and he took one large step away from her.

Within millisecond, the door to the spacious living room flew open, and Gaston entered.

“Count Gold.” he greeted the other man politely as he stood right next to his soon-to-be wife. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. I was rather worried when you left out lunch today.”

The other man offered Gaston a graceful bow of his head.

“The pleasure is mine, Monsieur Chevallier.” he answered, and Belle internally wondered if he truly meant what he was saying. “I hope you enjoyed lunch nonetheless.”

“We did.” Gaston confirmed immediately and earned another nod from Count Gold. “And yet we awaited impatiently your appearance as you promised us to let us see Mister French today, didn’t you?”

Count Gold stared at the younger man for several moments of tensed silence.

“I did.” he finally answered, his voice now sounding darker and more dangerous than before.

But Gaston didn’t seem to notice.

“Perfect.” he said cheerfully and offered Belle a toothy grin. “It’s just about time to get to see your father, don’t you agree Belle?”

Belle gave him a small smile in return.

Of course she wanted to see her father and check on him. And yet, she was still wary about what would possibly await her.

“But I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. French is not feeling very well today.” Count Gold broke through the initial euphoria. “He needs at least two more days of rest before he can accept visitors.”

“Two more days?” Gaston exclaimed exasperatedly and Belle’s heart fell immediately.

Two more days of rest… did that mean the illness was much worse than they had first anticipated?

“I’m afraid so.” Count Gold confirmed, offering them a sympathetic smile. “But Mr. French asked me to inform you that he is only too happy that you have finally arrived at my castle, Miss Belle. He is very looking forward to seeing you again.”

Belle’s lips curled up into a sad smile, the thick lump of concern in her throat preventing her to voice a single word.

“In the meantime…” Count Gold continued as he turned his attention back on Gaston. “Jefferson will be only too happy to show you around. I take it that you haven’t had the chance to explore the castle yet?”

“Indeed not.” Gaston said, but the hint of frustration and wariness was sounding heavy in his voice.

“Fine then.” Count Gold said. “I’ll let Jefferson know immediately.”

He offered Belle another polite bow and turned around to leave the engaged couple.

“Are you not coming with us?” Belle suddenly exclaimed with an expression of confusion plastered on her beautiful face.

Count Gold turned around to look at her, a sly smile playing around his lips.

“I’m afraid not, Miss Belle.” he answered lowly. “I’m not feeling very well.”

“Oh…” she replied and a worry line formed on her forehead as her thoughts wandered to her father’s illness. “Nothing serious I hope?”

Count Gold let out a low chuckle and shook his head.

“Don’t fear for me, mylady.” he ensured as he smiled at the couple in front of him. “It is only something rather….” He whirled his pale hand through the air as if to catch the right word. “… _permanent_.”

And with those words, he turned back around, leaving the couple standing alone in the living room.

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* * *

 

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Later that evening, Belle left the golden bathroom that was placed next to her chambers and sat down before her vanity mirror. She combed her hair for quite a long time, following her own thoughts as her eyes suddenly fell on something lying on her bed.

She slowly turned around and eyed the small, black box on her bed with wide open eyes. A letter was attached to it, written on rich yellowish parchment. The young beauty’s heart skipped a beat when she removed the envelope’s seals of a dark red color. She unfolded the letter, only to detect the graceful handwriting she had already seen once before in her life.

 

**_Miss Belle,_ **

**_I was delighted to hear about your interest in Greek mythology this afternoon. Yet, I have discovered that one of my most favorite legends is missing in your copy of ‘Songs of Homer’. Please give me the pleasure to give you mine instead._ **

**_Mayest thou find in the darkness of dreams what the light would never dare to reveal._ **

**_G_ **

Belle reluctantly opened the black velvet box that was lying on her bed.

As expected, a book was inside.

It was similar to Belle’s copy and yet so different. It was thicker than hers, and according to the slightly damaged leather binding and individual smell and overall quality much older and certainly more expensive than any other book she had ever held in her hands.

She examined it closely and it was only then that she noticed that there was something pressed between two pages. She opened the book at this point and a dead and yet still lovely red rose floated down onto the soft white sheets of her bed.

Her eyes widened when she noted that the dead flower had marked the beginning of a new story. A story she indeed hadn’t read before.

 

**‘The Abduction of Persephone’**


	5. Of Myths and Promises

**_ Chapter 5 _ **

**_“The Abduction of Persephone’_ **

_In the ancient times of Gods and myths, Demeter, glorious Goddess of the Harvest, gave birth to a beautiful child with glistering eyes as blue as Poseidon’s realm, and a smile that was able to outshine Helios himself. A sudden feeling she had never experienced before – a feeling of infinite love and joy captured Demeter’s heart as she kissed and cradled the girl in her arms, vowing to protect the newborn Goddess until the end of their days. A name escaped her lips as she looked down at her joyful daughter. A name that should sound like velvet music in every being’s ear whenever the winds would it – a name just as magnificent as her daughter’s beauty._

_And from then on, a new Earth Goddess was beloved and worshipped by the ancient people of Greek and elsewhere, and she would go under the name of Persephone._

_As the years passed by, the child grew into a beautiful woman with wavy, brown hair like the glowing warm earth she would dance on, pale flesh as soft and as white as the clouds in the sky, and cheeks as red as a mellow apple at a sunny day. Every being on earth and above complimented Demeter on the beauty of her daughter, was not only fascinated by the maiden’s grace and belle, but also by the kindness and love she held for every living creature in this world. Ever since, Demeter’s heart was filled with love and pride for her daughter, but never did she forget about the vow she had made at the time of Persephone’s birth._

_And as the beauty grew, so did the dark hole of motherly concern in Demeter’s heart. Vow turned to worry, worry turned to fear, and after a while, fear turned to anxious possessiveness. The Goddess of Harvest knew the world of Gods and humankind, and saw the betrayal and dangers that life would naturally bring along. Demeter therefore held her beloved daughter close to her motherly heart, protecting her fiercely from every man or woman, God or Goddess that would cross their paths._

_Persephone was well-protected, yes – but hardly free._

_The flowers and trees were the only friends she had, the floating river nearby the only companion she could whisper her longing secrets to. And at the end of the day, she would return to her beloved mother’s embrace – and Demeter would kiss the crown of her daughter’s brown curls, telling her how much she loved her._

_The story of Persephone would take a lasting turn on a fateful day at the river of Kladeos, however, for not only her mother was watching the beauty with open eye._

_Something darker, something dangerous had set its eye on Persephone, yearning for the beauty from a distance a human-being would never be able to grasp. A dead heart had started to live again, was driven by a long forgotten feeling of desire for this beautiful creature._

_It was a beautiful day like all the others in the land of humans, as the sun shone brightly in the blue sky, and the colorful birds chirped their cheerful song deep inside the crowns of the trees. Demeter sat nearby as Persephone gathered handfuls of purple and yellow crocuses, royal blue irises and sweet-smelling wild flowers. Persephone thought to bring some to her beloved mother, but was soon distracted by a hooded figure who was sitting at the glistering river that was protected by the River-God Kladeos, humming a strange song. The flowers floated to the soft ground as Persephone moved slowly closer, her mind and heart completely entranced by the alluring music that called her toward the cloaked stranger. The figure turned as she was standing close, reaching out one pale hand for her to take. The humming continued in her head as the stranger opened his mouth to speak to her in a voice as dark and mysterious as the secrets of the night sky._

_“Persephone.” it sounded, almost purred, from under the hood. “Come with me, my queen. Let me show you a place of wonders and everlasting ending.”_

_The young Goddess only stood there, frozen in place as the only thing that seemed to matter was the strange and yet beautiful melody in her head. The earth began to tremble as the stranger spoke, and the glistering water of Kladeos suddenly whirled in roaring circles, finally revealing broad black stairs that led deep down into the depths of this world._

_“Persephone.” she heard the stranger’s voice chant through the humming music in her head. “Come with me and be the flicker of light within my life of darkness.”_

_As if by magic, the young goddess lifted her hand and placed it into the stranger’s cold hand – neither her mind nor her limbs seemingly longer belong to herself. The cold grasp around her soft hand tightened as the stranger led her down the stairs – the beauty following him like a spirit that had no will of her own._

_Too late did the young woman understand the trap she was walking right into._

_The moment the gap above them closed with a roaring sound, the humming in her head ended and her head cleared._

_The figure turned, the hood fell, the deceit unmasked._

_“Hades” she breathed as the God-King smiled at her with eyes that were just as dark as the realm he ruled._

_Demeter sensed the pain in heart the moment Persephone had stepped onto the deadly stairs that led to the Hades’ dark realm, but however much she looked for her, Persephone was nowhere to be found. She searched high and low, sent even for Hermes, the messenger of the Gods, and Aeolus, the keeper of the winds, to find her – but her beloved child had vanished from both the heavens and the earth. Consumed by the pain over the loss of her child, Demeter soon ceased to remember her worldly duties. The seasons halted, the living things ceased their growth and the world was doomed to death. And every dying flower, every withering tree only reminded the Goddess of the bitter loss of her beloved beauty, and the hope in Demeter’s heart slowly sighed out the same way life did the living world._

_At the same time, deep down in the realm of darkness and death, Hades courted sweet Persephone with gifts and treasures, offering everything her young heart had ever yearned for. The God of the Underworld wiled the Earth Goddess further and further into his dark kingdom, vowed his love and desire for her that would be as everlasting as death itself. Persephone’s initial fear was soon replaced by interest for the realm and its promises, and interest soon turned into something stronger, as the eternal beauty of darkness reached out to consume her divined soul._

_Faced by the extinction of all life on his beloved earth, the father of the Gods Zeus, Persephone’s father and only God who knew about the abduction, finally sent for the messenger Hermes, ordering him to retrieve his daughter from the depths of the Underworld._

_Upon the gates to Hade’s realm, Hermes was greeted by the radiant and striking Queen of the Underworld: Persephone. The Earth Goddess had willingly given her heart and body to the darkness, and to the man she had fallen in love with, changing into a Queen of Death and Darkness in the process. Hermes, determined to fulfill Zeus’ command, ordered her to come with him as her father and mother wished to free her from Hades’ cold grasp. But even though Persephone yearned to see her mother again, she was yet unwilling to leave her husband and her new home to never return. Hades, enraged by his brother’s betrayal and Demeter’s claim on her daughter, came to his Queen’s side, ordering Hermes to leave and never to return. But Hermes wouldn’t go, but instead told Persephone about her mother’s grief and how the living world above started to wither just like Demeter’s heart did._

_And even though having turned into the Queen of death and the Underworld, an Earth Goddess’ and daughter’s heart was still beating in Persephone’s chest as she pleaded her husband to let her go for her mother’s and the living world’s sake. The King of the Underworld wanted to refuse her bitter request, for the God was used to keep what belonged to him for all eternity. And it was then that the powerful God Hades noticed that he did not only desire his wife for her body and soul, but that he had developed something more everlasting than even that._

_Yet, the Queen of the Underworld was unaware that her body and soul had been bound to the dark realm tighter than she even knew herself, for Hades with his desire for his treasure had long ago decided to prevent her mother’s ultimate retrieval._

_Hermes brought Persephone back up to the middle realm of mother earth, Demeter’s home. Flowers started to bloom and trees to sing when the Goddess of Harvest pulled her long lost daughter into a tight embrace, vowing to never let her go again. But as she pressed Persephone’s body against her own, she immediately sensed the change within her – detected how Hades had ensured that the Queen would never entirely be able to leave her dark realm._

_Demeter was mad with fury as she called upon Zeus and told him that Hades had given Persephone the Fruits of Death to eat during her stay at the Underworld. Rules of Heaven, the Underworld and Earth defined that no creature, God or human, was allowed to roam the upper worlds once they had tasted the forbidden seeds._

_As Zeus loved the middle realm too much as to risk its fatal death due to Demeter’s mourning, but at the same time unable to break the rule of the forbidden fruit completely, the father of the Gods finally decided that his daughter would return to her husband for one third of the year, and would stay the rest of the year with her mother and the upper world._

_So, whenever the young beauty would reunite with her mother, trees and flowers would grow and dance cheerfully in the wake of Demeter’s joy of having her daughter back, but nature would grow dead and cold whenever Persephone would return to the Underworld, back into the arms of her beloved husband._

_Then, Demeter would again mourn and grieve about her daughter’s loss, and flowers and trees would fall into a deep and cold sleep, waiting for the time when Persephone would return from the darkness of the Underworld to step back into the light._

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* * *

 

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“Belle?”

Gaston’s dark voice startled her awake, and the young beauty awoke with a gasp as the book in her lap landed noisily on the ground.

“I’m sorry.” her fiancé told her when he looked down at her. “I didn’t want to startle you.”

Belle offered him a shaky smile as she slowly lifted her upper body up from the fluffy cushions of the large couch she had apparently been sleeping on. She looked around, taking in her surroundings. She had apparently fallen asleep in the library.

“It’s alright.” she was quick to assure with a long sigh and brought both of her soft white hands up to massage her throbbing forehead. “I must have fallen asleep while reading.”

“You’re sleeping quite a lot over the last while.” Gaston observed with a hint of concern in both his voice and eyes. “Are you sure that you’re feeling well, dear?”

Belle offered him a small smile and nodded.

“Of course I do.” she confirmed as she waved his concerns off. “I’ve just been feeling a little bit exhausted lately. I haven’t slept well the past nights.”

The furrow on Gaston’s brow deepened, and Belle inwardly cursed herself for having mentioned it.

“Probably just the mountain air I’m not used to.” she therefore added quickly, and forced herself to smile at him. “Nothing to worry about, really.”

But Gaston didn’t look relieved in the slightest as his brown eyes studied her face closely.

“And you are rather pale.” he stated to reinforce his earlier observation.

Belle just shrugged her shoulders and her eyes moved towards the window of the library. Huge dead trees were surrounding the castle, their lifeless, grey branches swaying ghostly with every slight breath of wind. Heavy, dark clouds were hanging lowly from the murky sky, and the only things that made the impression of being partly alive in this lifeless surroundings were the soft whirls of mist that were dancing on the cool, earthy ground.

Out of instinct, she wrapped her arms around her small body and shivered.

“How couldn’t I?” she whispered with a slight tremor in the voice. “It seems as if the sun shuns this place on purpose.”

Gaston followed her gaze and nodded his agreement.

“So do the animals.” he added darkly, and Belle turned her head to look at him with a puzzled gaze.

Gaston let out a cheerless laugh and shook his head.

“Haven’t you noticed?” he asked dryly. “I haven’t heard a single bird since we’ve arrived – or seen even one deer or rabbit. Have you?”

Belle pressed her lips to a thin line and shook her head. It was true, she, too, had already wondered more than once about the animals in this specific part of Scotland. She knew that she had heard a wolf a couple of times howling his lonely song from afar, and she had thought to have seen an owl or something like that flying past the window of her room. But Gaston was right: there had been no cheerful singing of birds, there had been no traces of deer, rabbits or any other animals when Jefferson had invited her to show her the castle’s grounds. It was as if all living creatures had abandoned this place.

Her deep thoughts were interrupted, when Gaston suddenly bent down to pick up the heavy, leathern book that had landed on the dark floor of the library.

His brow furrowed as he read the title that was imprinted in golden letters.

“’Songs of Homer’?” he read out and raised his brow as he lifted his gaze to look at her. “I thought you have stopped reading that stuff, Belle.”

The young woman narrowed her shiny eyes at the reproachful tone in Gaston’s voice. She quickly stood up to snap the book away from his grasp, but Gaston immediately turned around so that the book in his hands was out of her reach.

“May I please have my book back, Gaston?” she asked as politely as possible, but sensed the anger that was starting to boil in her blood as she watched him flip carelessly through the pages.

“How can you even read it?” he asked, shaking his head. “There’s no pictures.”

“Well some people use their imagination, you know?” she retorted as she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms sulkily in front of her chest.

Gaston let out a contemptuous laugh that merely served as fuel to the already existing fury within her.

“It’s not right for a woman to use her imagination.” he said bluntly, but the smile on his face faltered a little when he looked at Belle’s angry, dark eyes.

“I mean you don’t need it.” he added hastily. “Life happens outside those books, Belle.”

He slowly moved closer.

“With me.” he added and a sly smile appeared on his lips as he leant closer.

“And I can assure you that I can live up to each and every phantasy you have.” he purred, and Belle’s pale cheeks immediately lit up with a shocked flush.

His lips were closer than they had been in a long while now, and Belle knew exactly what he was referring to. She remembered clearly the few times they had shared secret passionate kisses shortly after they had become engaged, mostly driven by Gaston’s desire for her and by Belle’s mere interest.

Gaston was a good kisser, at least so she thought. And the blush on her maiden cheeks only increased as she remembered the one time he had pressed her small form against a bookshelf nearby, causing a heat in her lower belly she had never experienced before.

It had been nice enough, but often had Belle wondered if that feeling had appeared due to Gaston’s skills or the mere excited fear of being caught during such a highly inappropriate interaction.

Belle shook her head to clear her thoughts, and snatched her beloved book out of his hands. She moved back to make a little bit more space between them.

“You are positively primeval.” she snapped, and noticed the quick hint of a disappointed look dart over Gaston’s face.

The young man let out a long sigh.

“Fine.” he finally said, the brief look of disappointment now replaced by seriousness.

“Look, I didn’t come to fight, love.” he started and moved closer yet again, taking her hands into his. “I think we need to talk.”

Belle cocked her head and eyed him with narrowed eyes.

“What about?”

Gaston offered her a small smile as he traced the knuckles of her hand with his big thumb.

“I don’t think that Gold is being honest with us, darling.” he finally explained, and Belle would have laughed out loud but for the seriousness behind Gaston’s voice.

She therefore let out an exasperated sigh instead and rolled her eyes in response.

“None of that, Gaston.” she replied. “Count Gold has been nothing but kind to us. He lets us stay in his castle and cares for my father.”

“Does he?” Gaston challenged and stared at her with a knowing glimmer in his eyes.

Belle narrowed her eyes.

“Well of course he does.” she replied angrily, and tried to free her hand from Gaston’s. But he didn’t let go but tightened his grip instead, keeping belle easily in place. “What makes you even think otherwise?”

Gaston pressed his lips to a thin line and made Belle sit down with him on the sofa.

“You remember the day I went to town to send a message to New York?” he finally asked lowly.

Belle nodded in silent response.

“Well the furthest I came was a small farmhouse about an hour-drive from here..”

“… because of the heavy thunderstorm that had taken you by surprise.” Belle finished and cocked her head. “I know. You’ve already told me about that. But what has that got to do with anything?”

Gaston gave her a short nod.

“Yes, I have told you about that already.” he agreed. “But I haven’t told you the whole story. I just needed to do some … inquiries first.”

Belle furrowed her brow in confusion, waiting for him to continue.

“An old couple was living there…” Gaston moved on. “…and they offered me shelter until the storm would pass by.”

Gaston wiggled his head slowly from one side to the other as if uncertain how to continue.

“It was… strange.” he finally said, his voice now significantly lower than before. “They had been welcoming and friendly at first, asking me about life in America and France, about the weather there and much more. But when I told them why we came to Scotland and where we were staying something… well… something changed.”

Belle furrowed her brow.

“What do you mean?” she asked, as she was completely at a loss what her fiancé was trying to tell her.

Gaston let out a long sigh before he continued.

“I didn’t notice it at first.” he explained. “But since I told them that we were staying at Gold’s castle, they exchanged looks every now and then, and they began to behave rather strangely.”

“Strangely?” Belle repeated slowly. “How so?”

Belle noticed how Gaston’s eyes suddenly stared at something behind her, but when she turned and followed his gaze, she only saw the unmoving long red curtains of the window he was apparently looking at.

“Gaston?” she said when her fiancé kept staring at the curtains behind her, and made no impression to continue his story.

After the beat of the longest moment, the young man suddenly screwed up his eyes and shook his head as if to clear his head.

“Hm?” was all Belle received as an answer as Gaston looked at her with a confused expression on his face.

“The old couple in the farmhouse.” the young woman replied reluctantly, no less puzzled. “You were saying that they were suddenly behaving rather strangely.”

Gaston stared at her for some moments as if he didn’t remember that they had been talking about it only moments before.

“Right.” he eventually agreed and took in a deep breath to come back to his senses.

“The woman.” he continued after some more moments, squeezing Belle’s hand tightly. “The woman immediately stopped talking to me for the rest of the time that I was staying with them. She just sat there with a somewhat odd expression on her face as her gaze was firmly glued on the small window nearby. And even though the man continued to talk to me, he suddenly sounded so sounded different, somewhat more distant than before. And he was asking quite a lot about you and Maurice. And he… well he exchanged looks with his wife as I told him that Maurice has the Highland Fever as Gold told us.”

“That’s it?” Belle asked with raised brows. “Only because these people seemed to have acted strangely when you mentioned Count Gold is reason enough for you to doubt our host?”

The young beauty made a disapproving tsk-sound and shook her head.

“Yes it is.” Gaston replied firmly. “And I think he’s not honest to us. About your father, about the reason why we had to come here…”

“That’s ridiculous, Gaston.” Belle interrupted sharply. “There are millions of explanations why the couple had possibly been acting that way. Your imagination was probably just running wild.”

She was just about to move away when Gaston suddenly wrapped his strong hand around her wrist.

“Then tell me darling.” Gaston retorted as he kept Belle in place and stared at her with furrowed brow. “Why haven’t we seen your father yet?”

Belle took in a sharp breath, inwardly admitting that she had wondered about that particular question more than once.

“Count Gold says father doesn’t…” she started hesitantly, but was immediately interrupted by Gaston who led out a contemptuous, short and a clearly cheerless laugh.

“Count Gold…” he interrupted her harshly, and shook his head. “… Count Gold can tell us anything he wants, Belle. It doesn’t mean it’s the truth.”

Belle averted her eyes and shook her head slowly.

“There is no reason for him to lie to us about my father’s condition.” she replied softly. “I think he is truly concerned and does everything in his power to help father.”

Gaston let out a snort.

“We’ve been here for more than two weeks now, Belle. And Gold keeps telling us that your father is still too sick to see us. Then I wonder why we had to travel to Scotland as quickly as Gold had requested. And even if your father really is in such a bad shape, it’s even more the reason for you to go and see him.”

He paused there for a moment, lowering his voice before he added: “Before it’s too late.”

Belle bit her lower lip, desperately trying to suppress the tears that were threatening to emerge in her blue eyes.

“What are you getting at, Gaston?” she finally said in a strained voice as she lifted her eyes to meet Gaston’s concerned gaze.

“I think Gold is stalling something.”

He shook his head slightly, his eyes turning slightly pleading.

“And I’m not willing to spend more time in this castle to find out what exactly he has planned.”

Belle shook her head in response.

“You’re being ridiculous.” she said sharply and freed her hand almost angrily from his grasp, but then Gaston raised his voice again, freezing her in motion.

“There’s more, Belle.” the young woman heard him say gravely, and the tone in his voice made Belle turn back around.

Gaston’s eyes flickered towards the closed door before he continued.

“When the storm had passed away…” he said in a hushed tone. “... I thanked the couple for their hospitality and was just about to leave when the man suddenly held me back. He told that people who suffered from the Highland Fever died within two weeks, three at the most. He told me that if it was true what Gold had told us, there was no way that Maurice had been able to survive for such a long time.”

The young man in front of her took in a deep breath and lifted his hand to cup Belle’s cheek, not wanting to voice what he had tried to tell her.

“I made some inquiries about this sickness, Belle.” he added softly. “It is true. No human being has ever survived this fever for longer than 18 days.”

Belle was looking up at him with wide open eyes as the young man was staring back at her with a heartbreakingly sympathetic expression on his face.

“No.” Belle croaked out, shaking her head vehemently.

“Belle…” he sighed. “Your father he is … he is probably dead by now. Gold is tricking us.”

Belle continued to shake her head no, her eyes widening with confusion.

“That’s not possible.” she insisted, earning yet another compassionate look from her fiancé.

“And it isn’t.” they heard Jefferson’s voice call from the doorway.

Both whirled around, and Belle’s blood froze when she saw the cold expression on the servant’s face.

“Didn’t your mother tell you not to spread rumors, Mr. Chevallier?” he said icily, his eyes firmly fixed on Gaston.

“Don’t waste your breath.” Belle’s fiancé replied with an equal harshness in his voice and face. “Whatever Count Gold is trying to achieve, we are no longer going to play along.”

He then turned towards Belle, the hard expression on his face making her almost gasp.

“Pack your stuff, Belle.” he ordered brusquely. “We’re leaving this place.”

Belle’s mouth fell open. Never had she heard Gaston talk to anyone like that. Sure, he had always been quite quick-tempered and testy, but he was a noble man of a good house in South France and therefore well-educated. He had normally always been able to veil his temper with good manners.

But Belle could also sense that there was more to Gaston’s reaction than pure anger – and for the briefest of moments she wondered if she had seen a hint of concern in the depths of his brown eyes.

But before she could follow that thought, Jefferson’s voice pulled her back to the library.

“A shame.” He said and moved his full attention towards the young woman. “Your father will be quite disappointed, Miss Belle. The master told me that Mister French was quite excited to see his daughter today.”

Belle’s eyes widened.

“Today?” she repeated and the heartbeat in her chest quickened.

Jefferson replied with a broad, toothy grin and nodded.

“Another trick, monsieur?” Gaston chimed in and quirked his brow at the other man.

“But of course not.” Jefferson exclaimed with a flourish gesture. The toothy smile was still plastered on his face as he met the other man’s gaze, but his normally shiny blue eyes were now of a darker shade as they stared Gaston down.

“The master never breaks a deal.” he added, and the tone in his voice sent waves of shivers down Belle’s spine.

“Now, if you’d be so kind…” Jefferson added as he whirled around, bowing his head lowly and gesturing towards the door.

He lifted his head slightly, showing off a great amount of pearly white teeth.

“I’m sure your father is already eagerly awaiting your presence Miss Belle.”


	6. Moth to the Flame

**_ Chapter _ 6 **

**.**

**.**

_Sleep, sleep, beauty bright_

_Dreaming in the joy of night;_

_Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep_

_Little sorrows sit and weep._

_._

_Sweet babe, in thy face,_

_Soft desires I can trace,_

_Secret joys and secret smiles_

_Little pretty infant wiles._

_._

_As thy soft limbs I feel_

_Smiles as of the morning steal_

_O’er thy cheek, and o’er thy breast_

_Where thy little heart doth rest._

_._

_O the cunning wiles that creep_

_In thy little heart asleep!_

_When thy little heart doth wake,_

_Then the dreadful night shall break._

_._

_._

_._

****

Belle was standing in front of a heavy, oaken door, her heart beating feverishly like a caged hummingbird inside her chest, and her small hands trembling on either side of her body.

Jefferson led them through numerous broad and narrow corridors that were only illuminated by flickering torches and flames, causing moving shadows to appear on the cold, stony walls. Unlike his normal, rather chatty behavior, the young servant wouldn’t say much – was downright ignoring Gaston’s constant demands where he was leading them. Jefferson just looked back at the young noble man with a strange glimmer in his dark eyes, and brought his finger to his mouth, motioning for Gaston to stay quiet as a silent response.

Belle watched the moving shadows on the wall, and not only once did she anxiously turn around as the oppressive feeling of being watched had suddenly shot through her veins. But whenever she whirled around, nothing but darkness would greet her wary eyes. Belle shook her head repeatedly, trying to gather all of her remaining strength.

She was obviously just getting paranoid. She therefore kept her eyes glued on Jefferson’s back as he moved gracefully through the darkness, and ignored the gnawing feeling that made her hackles raise.

Belle didn’t know how long they had followed Jefferson until the young servant had suddenly stopped in front of a heavy, oaken door. His eyes flickered to the golden doorknob and then to Belle, and when the young woman met his sparkling gaze, Jefferson’s lips curved into a smirk.

Belle stood there for some moments of awkward silence between the three of them, her heart beating feverishly like a caged hummingbird inside her chest, and her small hands trembling on either side of her body.

“Why so hesitant, Miss Belle?” she heard Jefferson’s voice ask innocently. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Belle’s eyes flickered from the golden doorknob back to Jefferson. The young servant was staring at her with raised brows and a questioning expression on his pale face, and for the slightest of moments, Belle had thought to have detected a hint of challenge in both his voice and eyes.

The young beauty swallowed hard, but eventually nodded her head yes.

“Of course.” she agreed hoarsely, her small voice seemingly barely able to make it through the swallowing darkness that was surrounding them.

She briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath, mustering all of her strength and trying to dispel the overwhelming fear that was starting to cloud her mind.

A fear of what to find behind this oaken door.

She reached out one trembling hand and closed it around the doorknob, a wave of surprise jolting through her body as her warm fingers made contact with the unexpectedly cold material.

Slowly, oh so slowly, she pushed the heavy door open.

Belle narrowed her eyes as she looked into the dark room. Some candles were lit besides a broad bed and next to the entrance door, filling the chamber with gloomy wave of lightness that was barely able to defeat the heavy darkness within. There was a small window on the right, but heavy, red curtains were drawn so that the softer darkness from outside was not able to reach through.

Belle let out a small gasp, however, when her eyes fell onto the motionless body that was lying on the bed.

“Papa!” she exclaimed heatedly and immediately rushed forward to where her father was lying.

Maurice was tucked under a thick, red blanket, with his eyes closed and his mouth slightly ajar.

“Papa! Papa, I’m here!” Belle whispered softly, but couldn’t quite hide the tremor in her voice, and reached out one hand to grasp his hand.

Her eyes widened in shock as her skin touched his hand, and she noticed how cold it felt. She grabbed it with both hands and rubbed it within them, trying to offer her father at least some warmth. Her heart nearly stopped beating when she allowed herself to have a closer look on her father. Sweat was covering his entre face, and his closed eyes were framed with dark, bloodshot circles that stood out to his deathly pale skin. Her breathing increased when she noticed the fine, dark lines that were running down his neck, as if his blood has turned black, and Belle nearly dropped his hand when she noticed that these dark lines had even reached his limbs. She took another deep breath and reached into her dress’s pocket, pulling out one of her soft handkerchiefs. The young woman slowly began to pat her father’s forehead, removing the thick pearls of cold sweat that were lingering there.

“He’s completely wet.” she murmured as she continued to pat his face dry, her other hand moving cautiously towards his neck to feel his pulse.

She let out a noisy gasp as she felt that his pulse was hammering vividly against her fingers, but noticed that his chest was barely moving.

Belle finally forced herself to tear her gaze away from her father’s death-like mask, and turned her head to look at Jefferson with desperate eyes.

“What is wrong with him?” Belle asked in a strained voice, desperately trying to keep her voice as calm as possible. “I thought he’d be conscious!”

The young servant was leaning heavily against the doorframe, his arms crossed before his chest, and watching the scene with a strange shimmer of wariness in his eyes.

After some more moments of awkward silence, Jefferson finally led out a long sigh and nodded.

“I’m afraid he’s fallen back to sleep, Miss Belle.” he explained with cocked head. “He has quite an exhausting disease, dear. The sickness is nourishing from Monsieur Maurice’s life-essence – and being constantly conscious his almost impossible for him at the moment.”

Belle nodded stiffly, and silent tears were forming in the corners of her eyes.

“Why are the curtains drawn?” Gaston asked, eying Jefferson warily. “A little bit of sunshine always helps.”

Jefferson narrowed his eyes at him and shook his head determinedly.

“Not in this case, Monsieur.” was the servant’s short answer.

Gaston cocked his head in response and narrowed his eyes.

“I beg to differ.” he argued sternly and raised his chin high. “I’ve made some inquiries on this Highland Fever.”

A frown appeared on Jefferson’s forehead as he stared back at the noble man with dark eyes.

“Oh, is that so?” he replied calmly, but the coldness in his voice cut the air between them like a sharp knife.

Gaston nodded in response before he continued.

“Yeah. And I read that patients should be should be kept in a room full of light and warmth. It would slow down the disease’s process.”

There was a long moment of silence between them and Belle’s eyes were quickly moving between the two men.

After moments that felt like hours, Jefferson finally let out a cheerful laugh and shook his head.

“Then pray tell, Monsieur Chevallier.” he addressed the tall man with raises brows. “Exactly how many people have survived this disease with the aid of such a therapy?”

Gaston’s eyes widened as he gaped at the other man.

“Thought so.” Jefferson replied with a sigh, a mischievous smirk flirting over his lips.

“Please believe me, Miss Belle.” he continued, turning his attention back to Belle. “The master knows _exactly_ what he’s doing here. Your father is well cared for.”

Belle stared at him for some more moments, but eventually nodded.

“I know.” she replied weakly. “Please forgive my fiancé’s qualms. He is just as concerned as I am.”

She moved her eyes away from Jefferson and settled her gaze back on her father’s pale face.

“If I hadn’t felt his pulse, I would think him dead.” she added quietly.

“Maybe we should grant your father some rest, Miss Belle.” she heard Jefferson suggest softly.

Belle managed to force herself to nod and slowly stood up.

She placed a soft kiss on her father’s cold forehead and whispering a tender “I love you.” against his skin. Belle had already turned around, ready to leave her father, when her wrist suddenly got caught by a cold, harsh grasp.

Letting out a sharp, surprised gasp, the beauty whirled around, staring at the cold hand that encircled her wrist with wide open eyes. Her heart missed a beat, however, when she realized that the cold hand with dark lines on it belonged to her father.

Her breath hitched as her wide blue eyes met her father’s gaze.

The white of his eyes was completely red, and his normally blue pupils dilated and replaced by black, round pools.

“Belle” he breathed with a clattering timbre in his voice, his long nails digging painfully into her skin. “Go!”

Belle was frozen in motion, her tongue unable to form a single word when she stared down at her father with frightening eyes.

“Papa” she finally croaked out, and the grip around her wrist tightened mercilessly.

“GO!” Maurice then screamed, letting go of Belle’s wrist and suddenly tossed and turned in his bed as if in pain.

“Papa!” Belle screamed and was just about to rush closer yet again, when strong arms closed around her small form, preventing her from making a single move.

“Don’t!” she heard Jefferson whisper sharply into her ear, his cold breath causing goosebumps to appear down her neck. “You can’t help him! Not now.”

Belle cried and screamed, and tried to hurry back to her father, but Jefferson effortlessly pulled her out of the room, closing the door forcefully behind them.

Belle collapsed right then and there, and if Gaston hadn’t caught her just in time, she would have crashed onto the hard floor.

“What was that?!” he demanded harshly, his eyes glistering darkly at Jefferson.

Jefferson turned around, looking at the couple with a grave expression on his face.

“Complications.” was all he offered as a response.

“You should bring Miss Belle back to her room.” Jefferson ordered monotonously. “I think she is in desperate need of some rest. Meet me in the Great Hall afterwards, I need to discuss something with you.”

Gaston gave him a short nod and tightened his grasp around Belle’s small form.

“Finally something we can agree on.”

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* * *

 

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Belle didn’t know how long she had slept until she finally recovered consciousness. It was dark outside, and she was lying in the soft bed in her chambers, wearing one of her white silken nightgowns. A deep blush occurred on her cheeks as she thought of the fact that Gaston had changed her clothes. Fiancé or not – it was still quite an inappropriate thing to do. Belle let out a long sigh and moved her head to look at the half-burned candle on her nightstand. The images of earlier were suddenly knocking mercilessly in her mind, and out of instinct, she immediately wrapped her arms around her form as images of red eyes and dark pools appeared before her mind’s eye.

Tears were clouding her sight as her mind wandered back to what had happened only hours ago. When she had decided to check on her father, she certainly had expected the worst. But never had she thought that reality would exceed even her darkest of expectations.

The cold- and paleness of his skin, his stertorous voice, those huge, inhuman and burning eyes… Belle buried her face into both hands and started to cry bitterly. She always believed in happy-endings, she had always believed that her father would survive this illness.

But having seen him like that, having heard his screams and having felt his sharp grasp… she suddenly wasn’t so sure about it anymore.

Belle stayed like this for a while, curled up in her soft bed and completely lost in tears and sorrow, when the door suddenly creaked open and a breath of cold wind blew out the candle on her night stand. Belle sat motionless on her bed and stared at the open door through the darkness for some moments with bated breath, expecting someone to enter.

But nothing happened.

She slowly stood up, telling herself that Gaston apparently hadn’t closed the door properly, when a strange shimmer of green light appeared through the crack of the door and caught her attention.

Her head screamed to close the door again, to huddle back into the safety of her bed, but an invisible force practically dragged her towards the strange light. Ignoring the protesting voices in her head, her body started to move towards the door and opened it carefully. Her eyes widened when she saw something like a green fireball hovering before her chamber, waiting for her.

Without thinking another thought, Belle reached out one hand to touch it, but only seconds before her finger was able to make contact with the strange, glowing object, it slowly moved away from her, swaying gracefully through the air and along the broad corridor, dipping its surrounding in a strange mixture of green and darkness. Belle’s mind was completely blank by now. The only thought that was filling her mind and heart was to follow this strange object – wherever it might lead her.

The softly glowing ball led her through dark broad corridors, the beauty unaware of where she was, why she followed or where it would lead her. A slight shiver, the only weak sign of resistance that her body was apparently able to arise, ran through Belle’s spine as the strange something led her up a narrow and stony circular stair, alluring her into an ocean of more darkness. But strangely enough, the more Belle focused on the green object before her, the more the light practically flooded all of her senses, the less did she bring herself to care. Nothing mattered in this very moment. Not Gaston, not her father, not the darkness – only this magical object in front of her – and like a moth to the flame, the young beauty was totally submissive to it.

As if by magic’s force, the double-door before her flew open, and Belle entered a spacious, dark room. The green fire-ball floated to the center of the room and suddenly stilled there, hovering about six feet above the ground. Belle heard the doors behind her softly close, and she, too, moved further into the room, stilling right before her magical leader.

She didn’t know how long she was staying like that – motionless, simply staring. Time didn’t matter. Belle watched in awe as the green fire-ball suddenly started to pulse, and how it began to swirl around its own axis, growing first bigger and then smaller with every turn it took.

And suddenly, it was completely gone – leaving Belle alone in the dark room.

Except that she wasn’t alone.

“Close thy eyes my tender flower” a dark, smooth voice announced from behind her, and she felt as slender, cold fingers traced down both of her upper arms.

“Darken thy world to my words.” The voice breathed into her ear, and without knowing why, Belle complied.

Her eyes closed, and all of her remaining senses focused on the voice’s touch and feel on her own skin.

A small voice in her head screamed at her, ordered her to run, to break through this overwhelming darkness, through this mind-clouding spell – but Belle couldn’t find the strength in her to submit. She just stood there, completely frozen, and each and every muscle apparently no longer following her mind’s orders but the stranger’s instead.

“Do breath my gentle thoughts” she heard the voice whisper, and felt how one hand stroked towards the side of her neck, sharp nails gently scratching the skin there.

“Of mingled breath and sensual words” the voice continued softly, the cold presence behind her moving closer towards her small form. “Of lips to mouth that shall crush your passionate pleas.”

Belle’s heart was beating vehemently against her chest as the words reached her ears, and caressed and burned her at the same time.

“Who are you” she heard her weak voice ask into the darkness.

There was a long beat of silence stretching out between them, the stranger’s lingering fingertips on her throat the only sign that he was still there.

“A friend, my sweet” the dark voice finally purred against her skin, and Belle let out a shuttering breath as she felt how one hand started to roam down her body, starting at her neck, to her breast, her hip and finally rested at the side of her thigh. “One who can dispel the darkness in your heart.”

Belle’s eyes fluttered shut, the sensation of this stranger’s touch a strange mixture of electricity and softness that she had never felt before.

She swallowed hard, shaking her head slightly.

“There is no darkness in my heart.” she sighed weakly, that earned a low chuckle from the stranger behind her.

“No?” The young woman felt how a nose gently brushed against the side of her neck. “But I can smell it, sweetness, I can sense it. The aura of sadness, the heavy cloud of despair that surrounds you.”

One long finger traced her jaw, titling her head to the left side.

“I can make it better, my sweet girl. Let me make it better.” he purred and cold breath tickled her skin, making her shudder. And it was exactly that shudder that finally forced her to bring her mind back to work again. This was not good, she could feel it. This feeling of safety that surrounded her only an illusion, a deception vailing the real danger she was in.

“No” she gasped, still unable to move a single muscle. “Leave me alone.”

A low chuckle escaped the stranger, sending waves of shivers down Belle’s spine. The cold entity behind her suddenly vanished, the feather-light touch on her skin disappeared.

“But you _are_ alone.” she heard the voice whisper from somewhere to her left.

Belle forced herself to open her eyes again and turned left, trying to make out the stranger in the darkness.

“I know what you have spoken to the darkness when you thought to be alone, my Belle.” the stranger whispered, the voice suddenly sounding from somewhere behind her, and making Belle whirl around.

Her eyes went wide, her heart fluttering nervously in her chest.

“I know what you feel in the bitter watches of the night… when all your life seems to shrink, and the walls of your chambers closing in about you, trapping you inside like a wild animal in a cage.”

Belle closed her eyes again, the truth behind his words fisting tightly around her heart. A chilly gust of wind made her long hair float through the air, and she immediately sensed the stranger’s presence before her.

“So fair…” he sighed, stroking some dark curls out of her face and behind her ear. “Always so duteous.”

Belle felt how the creature circled her, stopping again right behind her.

He gently pulled her hair to one side, leaving the left side of her neck bare.

“Why are you always trying so hard to fit in when you are obviously born to stand out?” he asked lowly, his right hand pulling her gently against his body. “Light to my darkness.”

Belle let out a weak sigh when her head fell back against his shoulder, no longer ruler over her own body. She felt how one of his hands traced the rim of her nightgown, following the swell of her breasts. Her breath hitched as she became aware of the heat that he called to her skin. His hand moved slowly, making its way down her length. He stroked down her flat stomach, and the young beauty began so tremble as she realized through a cloud of dizziness that his hand travelled even further.

Without noticing, Belle let out a soft moan when he reached between her legs, cupping gently her most sacred place. The beauty’s head was completely filled with this new sensation and a heat started slowly to burn inside her body, bringing a furious flush to her cheeks and cleavage. She felt him smile against her skin as cold lips started to suck softly on the conjunction where her neck and shoulders met, and before she could stop herself, a sigh of pleasure escaped her plump lips

Belle gasped as sharp teeth grazed her skin, and a strange mixture of pain and pleasure ran through her entire body.

“My sweet, innocent Belle.” The voice purred lowly against her neck. “How your sweet blood is running vividly beneath my lips.”

His nails scraped the skin of her neck, stroking it gently.

“How you have filled my dreams in my restless nights.”

His grasp tightened around her, her small form like a submissive doll against his lean but firm form.

“How I _desire_ you.”

Belle let out another pleasure-filled moan when he increased the pressure between her legs.

“What do you want from me?” she managed to sigh, fighting for breath – his overwhelming presence almost too much for her to bear.

The cold presence behind her froze for a moment, and through the heavy dizziness in her mind, Belle wondered if she had felt a wave of irritation run through his body.

She felt how his lips moved to the side of her neck, pointed teeth scratching her soft skin lightly.

“Everything.”

Belle gasped and sighed loudly as she felt how sharp teeth broke the skin of her neck.

Pain mingled with a strange feeling of ultimate pleasure.

And then her world went dark.

 

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* * *

_**NOTES** _

My lovely readers,

I am genuinly sorry for the long wait, please forgive me.. I promise to uploud the next chapter as soon as possible .. :)

Have a great Belle-centril OUAT evening!

J

 


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